Stone Soldiers 4: Shades of War (6 page)

Like electricity, energy swelled up from within Jason, pouring out of his mouth in a blue, crackling stream. The great sparks danced off his tongue and teeth and flowed into the vampire's mouth for several seconds. He could feel the energy, his new strength, fading from him.

When the sparks stopped suddenly, Jason felt the vampire release him. He felt light headed and nearly fell to the floor.

Laura moved over to Josie and gently held one of her hands. Again, blue energy crackled, flowing from Laura's hand into Josie's. "I believe this belongs to her."

Josie twitched then seemed to awaken. She sat up abruptly, breaking the contact with the vampire. She looked around disoriented. "What-?"

Jason was backing away slowly from the women, toward a far corner. He was pale and clearly terrified.

"Oh, behave, sweetheart," Laura said. "I don't bite."

Josie and Laura were in an office now, with no recording devices around. Josie was seated on a table, with Laura feeling her forehead with the back of a hand. It reminded Josie of when her mother had checked her out when she'd wanted to stay home from school.

"Is he a vampire?"

"No," Laura said, pulling her hand down. "Definitely not."

"But, he... drained me."

"Yes, but it's different." She stepped back. "Your temperature and heart rate seem fine."

"How's it different?"

"A vampire drains your lifeforce- stealing the energy from your body. It's generated by the interaction of your spirit with your flesh. And it's concentrated in your blood and heart. Almost like it's a static charge.

"When you use your powers, you convert that lifeforce into something else. Mark and his scientists call it etheric energy- it's not quite the same as anything else."

"Why'd I pass out then?"

"He sucked it all out of you- everything you'd saved up, generated from your own body. I suspect that sudden drop caused you to pass out. Almost as if it was a sudden drop in blood sugar or a lack of oxygen."

Josie was confused. "And you can draw it out too?"

"Not quite. I drew out his lifeforce- which forced him to convert that stolen energy back into replacement lifeforce. I do the same thing to heal myself or others."

Josie stood up from the desk. She felt stronger now that she'd had time to rest. "But how does he do it? Have you seen this before?"

"Never. None of the inmates I saw at Alcatraz could do what he does. Many of them could draw etheric energy from an external source- a nexus of ley lines for example. But I've never seen a human who can do what he can. It's very vampire-like."

"So what do we do now?" Josie asked.

"We follow our orders. Mark wants him in Georgia, so we take him to Georgia." Laura checked her watch. "They should have him ready in a few more minutes."

The women left the office and went to the front of the police station. There, Josie signed papers to take custody of Jason. A few minutes later, and the fifteen year old was brought out in leg and hand shackles, wearing blue jeans, a t-shirt and sneakers.

"Those won't be necessary," Laura said, pointing to the shackles. "Will they?"

Jason swallowed nervously. "No, ma'am." He'd been tempted to tell the local police what had happened in the interrogation room. But they hadn't believed him about his father- he was sure they wouldn't believe him about a vampire.

Josie and Laura led the boy outside- Josie keeping her distance by several feet. She clearly was hesitant to come within reach of the boy again. When they got to their SUV, she slid behind the wheel, while Laura sat in the back with Jason.

"Where are you taking me?" Jason asked as the SUV set out for the airport.

"Georgia," Josie said.

"Why?"

Laura smiled. "Someone we know is very keen on meeting you."

Jason briefly considered grabbing over the seat at Josie. If he could steal some power from her again, he was sure he could escape the moving vehicle unharmed. But then what? He'd seen how fast the vampire was. And so far he had no idea how to fly.

"What am I?" he finally asked.

"What do you mean?" Josie asked from the driver's seat. She alternated between watching the road and watching Jason in the rearview mirror.

"He means is he like us," Laura said, smiling. She smiled a lot- devilish smiles that made Jason very, very nervous. Like she was sizing him up for her next meal.

"No- like her," Jason said, nodding toward Josie. "I mean, she's not... like you, right?"

"A vampire?" Laura said, cocking an eyebrow. "Go ahead, you can say it."

Jason hesitated. "Uh, a vampire."

"No- I'm no vampire," Josie said.

"But you froze that camera- I saw you do it."

"It's an ability I have," Josie said. "Cryokinesis."

"Are you an alien?"

Laura laughed. "Alien? You believe in that?"

Jason felt a little angry at being mocked. But when he glared at Laura, the emotion quickly faded and he looked down at his lap. He was still scared of her.

"We're parahumans," Josie said. "At least, that's what the government calls us. We have paranomal abilities the rest of population doesn't."

"So, I'm a mutant?"

Laura poked Jimmy in the ribs, startling him. "You look pretty normal to me, kid."

"It's like eye color," Josie explained. "Recessive genes that go dominant every now and then, unlocking different abilities."

"Genes?" Jason asked. "So my parents were parahumans?"

"At least one of them carried the gene," Laura said. "Although, they might not have known it."

"So where'd they get the genes?" Jason asked.

"You really want to know?" Laura asked.

Something about the way Laura said it frightened Jason. He decided to let it drop, for now. "What about the guy who that killed my parents?"

"We don't know," Laura said. "Maybe he was something else. I'm no parahuman expert."

Jason considered for a moment. "You said different abilities. What kind? I mean, you freeze stuff, and I get really strong."

"Well, there's precogs, and post-" Josie started to say.

"That's classified," Laura interrupted. "Our boss will decide just how much you need to know."

"Is that who I'm going to see- in Georgia? Is that where you guys are from?"

Laura smiled again. "Our boss is finishing up some other business there. But he was very keen on meeting you right away."

The sun had set many hours earlier, and the battlefield was now cast in darkness. Fires were twinkling here and there, near the rows and rows of tents set up on either side of the site.

Clint could see the entire battlefield and park from where he hovered in the sky, some several hundred feet up. He was now wearing regular street clothes- blue jeans, a dark sweater and work boots. At this height the air was cold and whipped through his blond hair and new beard, but he ignored it. He was a titan, looking down on the pitiful humans below him.

But it wasn't just the humans and their camps he could see. After his time in the land of the dead, he could see those the living could not. Those for whom life was now a mystery, rather than death. Some lingered around the site, faded, almost invisible. Wraiths curious about all the humans that had gathered here. Others were still below ground, resting in the earth on which they had died so long ago.

Clint slowly drifted down to the site, landing near the southern encampment. The few spirits in his vicinity were curious and began to drift over. As they approached, he began to feed them.

It was something he had not been able to do in his lifetime. Then, bound to the body he had been born into, he had only absorbed energy, using it for the many powers he had unlocked over the years. But now, after his resurrection and possession of mortal shells, he had learned other ways to use that energy.

The spirits around him seemed to brighten and solidify as they drank in the raw power. They became visible to even human eyes, manifesting as sparkling, shimmering shapes even as a dense fog began to rise from the ground.

More spirits rose with that fog. They sensed the power emanating from Clint in his stolen body. They drifted toward him, from all across the battlefield.

Clint could sense their thoughts, their feelings. They felt him as well- an unspoken sense of connection between spirits.

The many specters gathering around Clint were angry. Not at this newcomer, but at their condition. The energy that now gave them form fueled their rage at dying. At least most of them. Many, hovering on the outskirts were unsure. They hesitated to come forward. They were not what Clint needed. He needed shades of anger and hatred, ready to resume the killing they had been called to do a hundred and fifty years ago. He carefully drew the power away from the curious and complacent, watching them fade from existence. He gave it to the angry.

Soon, he had a force of over fifty shades. Shades of gray- of the South, ready to wreak revenge on the living. They would be enough for tonight. It was time to start his campaign.

Turning, Clint extended an arm and gestured toward the encampment of humans on the other side of the battlefield. He didn't need to do this- the ghostly army was firmly under his control, and knew his wishes. But it felt right to gesture.

The shades extended into a long skirmish line and began marching forward, rifles materializing in their hands.

Clint smiled. The smile quickly faded as something caught his attention from the corner of his mortal eye. He turned and saw something hovering over the battlefield. A shape. Nearly invisible, man-shaped, and a good twenty feet off the ground.

The form, now more clearly that of a woman, started as he stared at it. It knew it was being watched. But what was it?

Clint took a step toward the being- if that is what it was. It contained energy, but not like those of his own small army. It seemed strangely alive.

The strange, nearly-invisible form suddenly streaked from the battlefield- moving at a speed that Clint himself could never hope to achieve. It flew rapidly to the southeast, vanishing in under a second. He strained to see it, first with his eyes, then with his other senses, but the figure was gone.

A chill crept up Clint's spine. It was fear- fear of the unknown. He was amazed he could feel this, after having been dead himself. It seemed that death was not the final mystery after all. He swallowed and forced the feeling away. He needed to concentrate on something else. Like the screams ringing out from the encampment to the north.

He turned and saw that his army had begun firing their rifles- silently sending spectral balls of shot into the fabric tents and bodies there. The dead had begun their attack upon the living.

***

The battle had only been raging for only fifteen minutes, but it was fifteen minutes of pure hell for Tom Hye. The Civil War reenactor had come to Georgia to celebrate the 150th anniversary of the Battle of Chickamauga. He'd brought all his finest period clothing and equipment and was prepared for a glorious weekend of reliving a historic moment in American history. In the morning- after a good night's sleep.

That sleep was interrupted by the sound of screams. Tom leapt from his bunk and pulled on his boots, bending over to hold a boot in place as he jammed his wool-socked foot into it. Amid the screams outside he heard a whistling. Looking up from his boots, he saw a hole in the fabric wall of his tent.

Another whistling sounded, right beside Tom's ear, and another hole appeared in the tent wall. It suddenly dawned on him that a musket ball had just flown past his head. He turned slowly on his folding cot. He saw two matching holes in the canvas. His tent had been shot. Twice.

The last bit of sleep faded from Tom's mind and he dove for the ground. The screaming outside was a mix of terror and pain- not jubilant reenactors gleefully reliving the past. These were real screams- of people really dying.

Tom belly-crawled across the grass floor of his tent and poked his head out. Men in Union uniforms were running around in utter chaos- many screaming, many pale with fear. But they were not alone.

Men in gray uniforms were present, thrusting with their muskets, bayonets stabbing at the men in blue. Others held rifles to their shoulders and fired- emitting bright, noiseless flashes. These silent, surreal volleys were followed by the Union reenactors suddenly sprawling to the ground, blood flying from their bodies.

This was real combat. And the Northerners were being butchered.

A scream sounded nearby, much louder than the others, due to its proximity. Tom glanced over and saw one of the men he knew from prior reenactments drop to his knees, a bayonet protruding from his chest.

The bayonet glimmered then faded away- not retracting, but simply vanishing into thin air. As the dead man, Jamie, fell onto his face, Tom could see his killer. A Confederate in full foot soldier's uniform, wearing a wide-brimmed, floppy hat.

The soldier turned toward Tom and he felt his blood run cold in his veins. It was not a human face that looked at him. It was the face of a skull, surrounded in an eerie sheath of mist-like gray. It opened its mouth and seemed to scream silently.

Then it was standing in front of him.

The ghostly figure had simply dissolved and swept forward, like smoke caught in a strong wind. It then resolidified right before Tom, seemingly human. It raised its musket high, ready to thrust down and spear Tom's head with its shimmering bayonet.

Tom closed his eyes, bracing for his immediate death.

Then he heard a new sound, over the screaming. The sound of helicopters.

Tom opened one eye, then the other, peeking up at the ghostly Confederate standing over him. It had turned its spectral head and was looking out, over the battlefield. Then it turned smoke-like again, and was swept away, moving toward the sound of the helicopters.

Tom stood slowly on legs that quivered and felt rubbery. He squinted and tried to look through the darkness. He saw blinking green and red lights coming in fast, only a hundred feet above the treetops to the southeast.

Helicopters- Army helicopters. UH-60 Blackhawks, Tom knew. He was, after all, a student of all eras of military history- not just the Civil War.

The Blackhawks, three of them, were loud now, their engines and rotors a roar that muffled the sound of the screams in the encampment. The helicopters were moving at full speed, and swept over the site in seconds. But not before dropping something. Five somethings.